His gaze mutinous, Khalid continued striding down the corridor.
“Are you a fool?” Jalal persisted. “Did you not see her face? You wounded her!”
Khalid whirled around, seizing the front of Jalal’s qamis.
“I told you once, Captain al-Khoury: I will not discuss Shahrzad with you.”
“To hell with that, sayyidi! If you continue down this path, there won’t be much to discuss. Have you not learned your lesson yet, cousin?”
Jalal bent toward Khalid, his brown eyes harboring a cold fury.
“Was Ava not enough?” he whispered in a cruel tone.
At that, Khalid shoved Jalal back and punched him once in the jaw. His bodyguards scrambled to Khalid’s side as Jalal slid across the marble floor and wiped at his bloodied lower lip before sneering up at his king.
“Get out of my sight, Jalal,” Khalid seethed.
“Such a wizened old man in so many ways. And such a little boy in so many others.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know very little, and I still know more than you, Khalid-jan. I know love is fragile. And loving someone like you is near impossible. Like holding something shattered through a raging sandstorm. If you want her to love you, shelter her from that storm . . .”
Jalal rose to his feet, straightening the insignia of the Royal Guard at his shoulder. “And make certain that storm isn’t you.”
MEHRDAD THE BLUEBEARDED
SHAHRZAD PACED BEFORE HER BED THAT NIGHT, wearing a path in the cool white stone beneath her feet. Every step was a war between wrath and resentment, between pain and petulance.
Between the unmitigated hurt at being summarily dismissed and the unadulterated fury that it mattered so greatly to her.
How dare he do that to me?
Her strides lengthened as she twisted her hair over one shoulder. She had not even bothered to change out of her clothes from earlier that day. Her mantle was strewn across the floor in a pile of discarded damask. The emerald sirwal trowsers and fitted top were not as comfortable as her nightclothes and shamla, but she could not be bothered with such things right now. Shahrzad yanked the band of brilliant green stones from her brow and heaved it across the room. Strands of hair tugged free along with the gems, and she swore a pained oath at her own stupidity before collapsing to the marble in a heap of irate misery.
Why did he treat me like that? He didn’t have to hurt me.
I—didn’t mean to hurt him.
All day, she had hidden these thoughts from Despina. Concealed these worries from the world. But now, alone in the desolate greys of her bedchamber, she could no longer hide these things from herself. Beyond the concerns she had for the way he had scorned her so coldly in front of everyone was the nagging truth he had done so because he felt betrayed. Because he felt wounded by her actions from the night before.
And she did not know how to fix it and return to his good graces.
She had tried today. Shahrzad had wanted to apologize. Had wanted to tell him she had not meant to take advantage of the situation. How, in hindsight, it appeared worse than she intended.
He must have thought she was in control.
Shahrzad laughed to herself bitterly as she leaned her forehead against the green silk on her knee.
Control?
The mere thought was ludicrous. How could he not know as much? And now he was punishing her for it. Like an angry boy denied access to a plaything.
How dare he?
In front of Despina. In front of Jalal. He had embarrassed her.
Treated her as though she were nothing.
As though she merited a silk cord at sunrise.
Her throat tightened in memory.
Shiva.
“How dare you!” she cried out to the darkness.
Two could play at this game. She, too, could rage at him like a small child deprived of sweets. And then, maybe, she would not feel quite as miserable and alone as she had all day. As broken.
As lost to him as she was.
Shahrzad pushed to her feet and adjusted the thin chain of gold around her waist. Dangling from its center was a series of emeralds and diamonds that matched the necklace at her throat and the bangles on her left wrist. She shook out her hair and made her way to the low table in the corner.
She lifted the lid from the tray and began eating some jewel rice and saffron chicken. In between bites of fresh herbs and cool yogurt, she drank tea and nibbled on pistachio cakes sweetened with honey. Everything was cold, and she chewed from habit rather than enjoyment, but she knew she would regret it later if she went to bed hungry as well as angry.
Halfway through her halfhearted meal, the doors to her chambers opened.
Shahrzad paused but did not turn around. Instead, she resumed eating. She poured herself another cup of lukewarm tea with the steady hand of feigned indifference.
Again, she felt his presence behind her. The same shift in the wind.
The same maddening glory.
Shahrzad tore into a piece of flatbread with vicious precision.
“Shahrzad?”
She ignored him, despite her heart’s sudden clamoring.
Khalid strode to the other side of the table and sat down on the cushions with soundless grace.
Still, Shahrzad did not look up from her tray. She was tearing the piece of flatbread into tiny bits she proceeded to pile in a heap before her.
“Shazi.”
“Don’t.”
He remained still, awaiting clarification.
“Don’t pretend with me.”
“I’m not pretending,” Khalid said quietly.
Shahrzad threw down the rest of the flatbread and met his gaze with stinging circumspection. His eyes were ringed in deep lines of fatigue. His jaw was set, and his posture was rigid.